You arrived the first weekend of the pandemic lockdown. When you ran under the chair, I, mirroring your movement, surrendered to the floor. You came right out and gave me a kiss. That was the first of your many sweet kisses. You turned a friend into a cat person with one of your kisses! Your final act was giving me a kiss. You, about to die, reassuring me.
You accompanied me through nine deaths of important people and many other losses in the almost four years we had together. In your willingness to stay near, you’d turn my repression into a rush of tears. You’d reach out your paw as you laid on my grief-laden chest telling me it was time to pause and let go. If your tenderness couldn’t break me, nothing could.
You had your own losses…including all of your teeth! Together, we rehabilitated-in-place, in one another’s gazes and warm embrace. We must have activated one another’s immune systems (despite our love of fried chicken, cheese and egg nog yogurt, even!). It’s fair to say that this apartment became the home I was courting for ages with your presence. You had diabetes, a heart murmur and many other issues but you were always taking things in stride with your tongue sticking out.
In my treasure trove of photos of adorable you, I am reminded again and again of your example of rest. I knew I was most on track, most in hallowed flow, the deeper you dozed in the mid-afternoon.
Of course I still look out to check on you when I come and go. When I fall asleep and rise awake. The air is so incredibly still now in our home, your anima oh so vibrant, encompassing and huge. It was hard even to put your litter box away because each part of your existence is significant to me. I want to eat from your bowl. I think I’ll use your brush tonight. Oh what a hole in my evening now without your ginger hair to groom after mine.
You, my warm and fuzzy wonder, took up a lot of space but you never asked for too much, only the right amount to reciprocate the twenty-four hour accompaniment you gave. Oh you made me laugh too. You were always posing dynamically, shamelessly begging for attention, helping me not take myself so seriously. I got a bigger desk just so there was room for all of you to lay across it. In the morning, you wouldn’t let me go back to bed if I was feeling down or listless, you meowed and then jumped up on the desk beckoning me to show up even during the peak hellscapes.
Your death is a pin straight through my heart. Through this grief there are parts of myself for better and worse that I cannot unknow.
Sgt Pepper (Sarge)
